Page 34 of Wild About You

He seems to consider this. “She doesn’t seem like the most agreeable person in general. I’m sure it wasn’t personal.”

“Maybe, but I hate when people say ‘It’s not personal’ or ‘It’s a problem with them, not with you.’ Like, sure, but if they make you feel like shit regardless, what does it matter whether it’s got anything to do with you?”

“True,” he says, sending a brief, speculative glance my way. “I guess the idea is that maybe it’ll feel less shitty if you know you haven’t done anything wrong.”

I shift in my seat. “That almost makes it feel worse to me. Because then I’m powerless. If being a nice person doesn’t make people reciprocate that niceness, sometimes it’s like, why do I even try? Is it all pointless, so I should be an asshole whenever I feel like being an asshole?”

Finn leans forward and props his elbows on his knees, looking me square in the eyes. “Are we still talking about Enemi?”

Oof. He’s right. But do I want to go there with him right now? This peace between us still feels tenuous, and I don’t give out my trust freely. I think I want to test the waters in his creek first—see if he’s ever going to divulge anything deeper about himself, give me any trust. I stretch my legs out in front of me, sinking down in the camp chair.

“Maybe not. But enough about me and my hatchets. Can I ask you a question?”

I can see his shoulders tense. “Will you use said hatchet on me if I point out that you just asked me one?”

“My weapon of choice is my biting wit, so no.”

Finn nods slowly. “Okay. Well, go ahead, then.”

Steepling my fingers under my chin, I cut an appraising look his way. “Why did you apply for Wild Adventures?”

His brows rise, though I don’t know why. What did he think I would ask, what his purpose in life is? How many partners he’s had, and if he’s into women? Perhaps, in particular, women with multicolored hair and little to no filter? My cheeks heat at the thought. Definitely don’t need to go that route.

“Besides my lifelong dream of becoming Burke Forrester?” he asks with mock sincerity.

“Well, that part’s a given,” I say.

A small smile crosses his face as he looks down at his hands, but soon after it’s replaced by something more melancholy.

“I grew up watching the show with my dad. It was the only series we consistently kept up with, as ridiculous as we both found it some of the time. Reality TV, right? It’s silly, and my mom made fun of us, but we loved it. Loved sharing it.”

My gut clenches as I note that he’s speaking in past tense.

“For years, we talked about trying out for it as a father-son team when I got older. Maybe when I was in college or after graduating, as a ‘welcome to adulthood’ celebration. I mean, if they even picked us—obviously odds were slim, but we always talked about it like it was a sure thing, just waiting on us to fill out the application. Then a couple months into my senior year, my dad got sick.”

Finn pauses to swallow heavily. I feel like my heart is in my throat, and I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around myself.

“So yeah, that didn’t go well. His cancer was stage four when they found it, prognosis was bleak. He actually made it longer than expected, till the month before I went off to school.”

When he pauses again, I can’t stop myself from shifting my chair closer to his, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder and give it a strong squeeze. “Oh, Finn. I’m so, so sorry.”

Finn nods his hanging head, and when he lifts it again, I see his eyes are shiny. Of course I’m a goner then, my own eyes prickling with tears that I don’t want him to see.

“Yeah. Thanks.” His voice is firm. “I almost didn’t leave for UVM, thought about deferring for a semester or a year, even. But my mom didn’t want that for me, and she was in such a rough place—I mean, still is, sort of—that I’d do anything she told me to. And obviously, it was at UVM that I found out about this Co-EdVentures thing, and thought it was kind of a sign. So even though I hadn’t been camping since Dad got sick, I decided to apply in his honor, and the rest is history.”

He sits up straight then, and I pull my hand back, scrambling to disguise my leaking eyeballs and get my shit together. But it’s no use—he obviously sees, and his face, which wasn’t especially cheery to begin with, falls further.

“Aw, Natalie, no. Don’t—it’s okay. I’m okay. Or—” He scrubs a hand over his head roughly. “I’m not, but I am. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Stop it!” One of my hands flaps maniacally in his direction. “Don’t feel like you have to console me. I’m just really sorry for what you and your family went through—continue to go through.” I wipe most of the remaining tears from my eyes and cheeks with the back of my other hand, not even sure what the right words are to say here. I’ve never known someone who lost a parent this young. Finally, I settle on, “That is so completely shitty.”

God, Natalie. So eloquent, so helpful.

But to my surprise, Finn huffs out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. That’s about the best way to describe it. Shitty like nothing else I’ve dealt with.”

I swallow heavily. “I’m sorry for making you talk about it.” Something else occurs to me then, and I cover my face with my hands, muffling the next words. “Oh god, and for going on about my dead grandma as if it’s the worst loss that’s ever happened to anyone, when you’ve been dealing with this.”

“What are you even saying?” Fingers gently wrap around one of my wrists and tug, bringing my hand down. I don’t look at Finn but let him pull the hand between our seats, let his warmer one engulf mine in a firm grasp, interlacing our fingers. “First of all, I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now, but you can’t make me talk about anything I don’t want to talk about.”

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